


Yourself, First

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [62]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Mutual Pining, Self-Esteem, Self-Love, Selfies, Unresolved Sexual Tension, remix eligible, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 12:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: Merlin and Arthur both think the other needs better self-esteem. A story in three parts.Written for Tavern Tales monthly prompt: Self-Care, Self-Love, Selfies.





	1. First, do no harm.

 

 

“Sire?” Merlin murmured, shaking Arthur’s shoulder gently. The king stirred, raising his head from where he’d fallen asleep at his worktable, and frowned as he tried to focus on Merlin's face. There was a smudge of dark ink on his cheek. "It's late, sire. You should be in bed."

 

"'m busy," Arthur said. "I was..." He looked down at the desk. "I was writing."

 

"Can't it wait until morning? This is the third time in as many days I've found you like this. You really need to take better care of yourself."

 

“How can I?” Arthur groused, rubbing at his neck as though it pained him. His tousled hair made him look a lot younger than he actually was, but Merlin could hear his joints creaking like those of a much older man. “I’m too busy taking care of everything else.”

 

“Hmm.” Glancing over his shoulder, Merlin could see that Arthur had been working on a draft of the new trade agreement with Mercia. Although it was important, it wasn’t technically due for another few weeks, and most of the work ought to have already been done by Geoffrey and his team of assistants. “Perhaps you could try delegating,” Merlin suggested drily. “I’ve heard most rulers find it a useful habit.”

 

Arthur frowned. “This is a vital piece of diplomacy, _Mer_ lin,” he said. “Not that I’d expect you to understand the pressures of being a head of state, but you could at least try to take this seriously. The people are depending on me.”

 

Merlin sighed. “And I take that very seriously, I swear,” he defended himself. “But I take your health seriously too, and if you don’t start sleeping in an actual bed for a change you’re going to end up with a hunchback to rival old Aeric’s. Not to mention you could easily mess something up due to chronic sleep deprivation.”

 

“I’m fine.” Arthur folded his arms. 

 

“Right. Because sleeping with your head in an inkwell is guaranteed to make you healthy and alert the next day.” Merlin mirrored Arthur’s posture, glaring. “Get into bed.”

 

“I’ll get _you_ into bed,” Arthur snapped, clearly annoyed, then froze as the meaning of what he’d just said asserted itself. Merlin raised his eyebrows, torn between amusement and carefully ignored disappointment as Arthur scrambled to back-track.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” the king said, cheeks flushing a deep red. “I’m tired, I wasn’t — you know what I meant.”

 

“Yes, I know, Arthur.” Merlin shook his head. Never mind that he kind of wished Arthur had meant it the way it originally sounded, he couldn’t bring himself to tease him when he looked so sweet and sleep-befuddled. “It’s fine. I won’t tell anyone you have secret fantasies about wrestling me into your bed and having your wicked way with me.” Well. He couldn’t bring himself to tease him _much_. 

 

Arthur sputtered for a moment, mouth open, then shut it so abruptly that Merlin winced as his teeth snapped together. “That will be all, Merlin,” he said, beginning to shuffle through his papers in what was obviously intended as a gesture of dismissal. “What are you still doing here, anyway? Perhaps you should focus less on my sleeping habits and more on your own excessive devotion to duty.”

 

“Yes, sire. Good night, sire.” Unable to resist, Merlin ghosted a hand over the back of Arthur’s rumpled head, a fleeting gesture that he probably shouldn’t have allowed himself but which Arthur gave no sign of noticing. Hopefully the small amount of magic he'd sent Arthur's way would ease the king's sore muscles and give him a deeper rest, if and when he made it to his bed.

 

“It’s a tough job,” he muttered to himself as he headed for the door. “But someone’s got to do it.”


	2. Love thy neighbour (as thyself)

 

It was possible that Arthur was possessed.

 

That was really the only way he could explain it. He couldn’t imagine any other reason why he hadn’t gone to his father as soon as he’d figured it out, or why, now that he was king, he _still_ hadn't dragged the insolent whelp down to the dungeons or had him exiled, at the very least, for all the things he’d done. Merlin was using magic _right under his very nose_. He had enchanted the _king_ , for God’s sake. His very existence was something close to outright treason.

 

The trouble was, however, that Arthur knew Merlin. He had watched him for years, with the half-intent, half-casual gaze of a hunter who didn’t quite recognise the beast he was tracking and didn’t want to scare it away. Merlin was irreverent at best and often cheeky, stole food from his plate when he thought Arthur wasn’t looking, and seemed sometimes to go out of his way to humiliate his master for no other reason than he thought Arthur needed to be taken down a peg or two.

 

He was also — and this was the unfortunate part — unfailingly kind, loyal beyond all reason, and as far as Arthur knew had saved his life on at least six separate occasions. Probably more.

 

Even that might not have been enough to save him, if Uther had still been alive, but without his father's hatred to muddy the waters Arthur could see the thousand other services Merlin performed for him from day to day, tiny things that he probably thought Arthur didn’t even notice. He saw the way Merlin bullied him into sleeping properly, fed him when he didn’t want to eat, and shored up his flagging confidence without apparently giving a thought to his own advancement or well-being. Merlin was appallingly bad at his job and sometimes seemed to be actively _trying_ to do things incorrectly, but whatever else could be said for him he was always there when Arthur needed him most.

 

And, all right. If he were honest with himself, there were other…services Arthur had thought about having Merlin perform too, things he had never expected to want from his self-effacing manservant. As it stood, he wouldn't think of importuning the other man in such a way, even if he sometimes suspected that Merlin wanted it too. Their positions were such that he could never quite be certain whether it was for the right reasons, and not just because Arthur wanted it to be so. But maybe, if the ban on magic were lifted, and Merlin was free to be himself — if he could be made to understand his value as Arthur saw it…

 

It became his secret project. In the few spare minutes he could snatch between his various other duties, he began to research the history of magic in Camelot, its uses and varieties. It wasn’t easy, especially given that his father had done his best to purge all such information from the land, but after several weeks of painstaking study and a few awkward conversations with Geoffrey and Gaius, he had enough information to begin drafting a proclamation.

 

He hadn’t intended to fall asleep over it, but it was late and he was tired, and what with one thing and another it seemed fitting somehow that that was the way Merlin ultimately found out. Arthur woke abruptly at his startled gasp, jolted out of a peaceful dream by the feeling of a familiar hand closing over his bicep.

 

“Arthur.” Merlin’s eyes were wide as he stared at the parchment, his grip on Arthur’s arm so tight it hurt. “Are you — tell me this isn’t some kind of joke.”

 

Arthur had to fight back his smile. “No, it’s not a joke.” Then, tentative, he reached up a hand to cover Merlin’s own. “You can't have expected me to remain oblivious forever.”

 

Merlin looked stricken. “I — what?”

 

“Merlin. You're hardly subtle.” Then, seeing the distress in Merlin’s face deepen, he said, “It’s all right. I've known about you for quite some time now, and in case you hadn't noticed, I’m not exactly planning on having you executed.”

 

“But.” Merlin’s throat worked. Arthur watched the bob of his Adam’s apple interestedly. “But _why_? If you knew all the time, then why now?"

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do it sooner,” Arthur said seriously. He studied Merlin’s expression, tightening his grip on the other man’s hand and willing him to understand without his having to explain. “My father wouldn’t have listened, and something like this…I can’t just change the law overnight and expect people to accept it. But I can’t just ignore it, either. It’s too important — _you’re_ too important. You do see that, don’t you?”

 

Merlin drew his hand back, and for a moment Arthur was worried he had overstepped the mark somehow. 

 

“Arthur, I…” Merlin shook his head, and his gaze when it met Arthur’s was alight with tears. “ _Thank you_.”

 

This time, Arthur couldn’t help the smile that fought its way to the surface. “Shut up, Merlin,” he said. “That’s my line.”


	3. To thine own self be true.

 

They were away on a hunting trip when Arthur’s willpower finally broke. Merlin had been expecting it to happen for quite a while now; ever since the king had issued his proclamation repealing the ban on magic, he had taken to watching Merlin with poorly disguised anticipation, following his every move when he thought Merlin couldn’t see him. Merlin could have sworn he actually looked _disappointed_ whenever he saw his manservant doing his chores the normal way, instead of doing some clandestine magic on the side. He wasn’t sure why. Was he curious? Repulsed? Was the whole thing an elaborate ruse designed to get Merlin to do magic right in front of him so that Arthur could finally have him put to death?

 

Okay, so the last one was probably just Merlin’s paranoia talking, but still. He couldn’t be expected to shake the habits of a lifetime after just a few days of (comparative) freedom.

 

In any case, despite knowing the moment was inevitable, Merlin couldn’t have been less prepared for it when Arthur sat down next to him in front of the fire and said quietly, “Why don’t you show me something.”

 

“What kind of something?” Merlin said, stalling. “It’s dark, sire, and we’re in the middle of the forest. There’s really not a lot to see.”

 

Arthur fixed him with the kind of flat stare that told him humour wasn’t an option in this situation, and Merlin sighed.

 

“Fine. What would you like me to show you, then?” he asked, sitting back carefully on his haunches to study Arthur’s face. The king appeared to be thinking, tracing a pattern in the dirt with his foot. 

 

“What do you _want_ to show me?” He asked at last, and something about the tone of his voice told Merlin that he should think about his answer very carefully. “If you could do anything. What do you want me to see?”

 

There was a lot Merlin had wanted to share with Arthur over the years, from the beautiful to the truly terrifying, but there was only one thing he wanted Arthur to truly _know_ about magic and the destiny they shared. The question was, how to get him to see it?

 

“Come with me,” he said finally, after a moment’s thought. He got up and began to lead the way into the woods, away from the hunting party gathered in the firelight. Fortunately it was a clear night, and once they were out of sight of the camp it wasn’t difficult to find his way to the clearing he had noticed earlier. Arthur followed him without hesitating, his feet making no sound on the frost-covered earth. He stopped when Merlin stopped, his head tilted with curiosity as he waited to see what came next, arms loose and easy at his sides. Not afraid. Just watching. Merlin fought back a shiver. 

 

“Lie down.” Arthur’s eyebrows rose at the order, and Merlin resolutely did not blush. “You said you wanted to see something.”

 

“All right.” With a shrug, Arthur lowered himself to the wet grass and did as he was told. Merlin lay next to him, lifting up his right hand to send a pulse of magic towards the sky.

 

“Ácýðaþ,” he whispered. 

 

“Merlin— ” Arthur began, but Merlin hushed him.

 

“Watch.”

 

Above them, the crisp blue of the night sky seemed to shiver, and slowly the stars gained in depth, revealing a heretofore unsuspected pattern. Merlin traced the outline with his finger, glancing over at Arthur to check that he was following. “Do you see it?” he asked, unable to look away from the king’s rapt face. “There. The shape in the stars, it’s a— ”

 

“Dragon,” Arthur finished for him, his voice soft. 

 

“It’s you,” Merlin said, stumbling over the words. “Or, it represents you, anyway. The Once and Future King. You’re going to unite the whole of Albion someday.”

 

Arthur was quiet for a long time. The dew was seeping into Merlin’s breeches, and he could feel the cold even through his tunic, a sharp contrast to the warmth of Arthur’s body pressed along his left side. Finally, the king cleared his throat. “And what about you?”

 

“What?” 

 

“Up there. There should be something to represent you, too, don’t you think?” He glanced at Merlin and smirked. “A celestial chamber pot, maybe. Or a feathery hat.”

 

Merlin shoved him to conceal the lump in his throat, and Arthur began to laugh, his whole face lit up in a way Merlin had seldom seen it before.

 

“If you’re just going to make jokes,” Merlin started, but his voice came out more breathless than angry. To his surprise, Arthur stopped laughing and turned to look at him, rolling onto his side so that he was staring down into Merlin’s face.

 

“It’s beautiful,” he said sincerely. “Thank you, Merlin.”

 

They were very close. From this angle, Merlin could see the white plume of Arthur's breath as the king exhaled sharply, the fine shadow of his eyelashes on his cheeks and his dark eyes setting Merlin's pulse racing. At last, Arthur seemed to come to a decision. 

 

"It's beautiful," he said again, only this time his eyes never left Merlin's face. 

 

Yes, Merlin thought, as Arthur leaned across and kissed him. It certainly was.

 


End file.
